Page 9 of In the Highlander's Bed

As she suspected, considering her exit, Mistress Hillary followed close behind. Constance lingered at the staircase for her.

“Miss Constance, have you become ill?”

Constance sucked her cheeks, leaning against the banister. “I fear so,” she said in a small voice.

“Oh, dear,” Mistress Hillary said, lifting her skirts to come up the stairs to attend her.

“Please,” Constance said, warding her back with a frail hand. “I shall be fine. I just need tolie down a bit. You must see to our guests, especially since Mr. Fryson is not here. One of the maids will help me.”

The reminder to Mistress Hillary that she was the only one in full authority did the trick. The headmistress stepped off the stairs. “You are right. I need to stay down here. Let me send Miss Esmay up to you.” Miss Esmay was the French teacher and very well liked.

“No, she’s busy at the punch bowl,” Constance said. “But I need to go to bed…”

She didn’t wait for a response, but started climbing the stairs as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, a weight she threw off the moment she’d rounded the corner of the upstairs hallway. She counted to forty-five and peeked back down the stairs.

Headmistress Hillary was gone. At last, she was free to leave.

Constance walked to the end of the hall and the stairway that led to the kitchen. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of feigning illness sooner. No one would bother a sleeping sick person, and she could have been well on her way to Edinburgh by now.

The kitchen was deserted. All the servants were busy with the dance. Constance hurried across the room and slipped out the back garden door.

Light poured out from the ballroom windows onto the lawn. Conscious of her white dress, she stayed to the shadows, making her way toward the bundle of clothing she’d hidden in the shrubberies and congratulating herself with every step toward freedom.

Her skin tightened with the cold of the damp night air. The bundle contained a shawl, her beloved moccasins, and a sensible dress. She would change as soon as possible.

She’d also thought to pack a book to while away the tedious days of sea travel, a novel by Maria Edgeworth,Castle Rackrent.Miss Esmay had lent it to her on the sly since it wasn’t approved literature for the young ladies of Madame Lavaliere’s. Constance couldn’t wait to read it. In fact, her only concern in running away was that she wouldn’t be returning the book. Perhaps, when she reached the valley, she could send some money to the French teacher for its replacement.

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and the path was well marked. However, it took a moment to discover the exact location of her bundle. Pulling it out from under the shrubberies, she tossed aside her fan, kicked off her silly dancing slippers, yanked off the irritating silk stockings, and put on her deerskin mocs.

Mistress Hillary and Charlotte had refused to let her wear them. But now she didn’t have to listen to them, or anyone. Her toes wiggled in pleasure as she retied her bundle, placing her dancing shoes on top of her clothing. Her money and the book were at the bottom.

Her fingers had just finished the knot when she sensed that she wasn’t alone.

Her heart went still. A pair of booted feet walked up to stand beside her.

Relief flooded Constance. It wasn’t Mistress Hillary.

“Are you gardening, Miss Constance?”

Mr. Lachlan’s soft burr surprised her. She looked up. His face was in shadows. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, what he wanted. She considered making an excuse—and decided not.

She was too close to freedom to give up now.

So, doubling her fist holding the bundle of clothing, she started to rise to her feet. And, as she did so, she swung at him with all her might, aiming for his groin.

Castle Rackrentgave a nice heft to her attack and it was all that was needed.

The Scotsman doubled over in pain, and Constance took off running.

Three

Gordon had not expected the attack. He had anticipated anger, perhaps a tear or two—but an attempt to neuter him?

He dropped to one knee. For one sharp, dizzy moment he couldn’t breathe let alone think. She had a surprising amount of strength and determination for a woman, not to mention that he felt as if she’d struck him with a brick.

Meanwhile, she’d taken off running in the opposite direction of the school.

Through the haze of pain, Gordon realized the contradiction.